


The Ascension to Power

by Furygun81, phasmasarmor



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Kylux - Freeform, M/M, Pre-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Prequel, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:00:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23180590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Furygun81/pseuds/Furygun81, https://archiveofourown.org/users/phasmasarmor/pseuds/phasmasarmor
Summary: A formidable partnership forged by the Supreme Leader himself evolves...
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Hux
Kudos: 8





	1. STAR WARS

**Author's Note:**

> it's gay!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...

A terrifying new power is

emerging from the ruins of the

Empire, calling itself the FIRST

ORDER. Headed by SUPREME

LEADER SNOKE, their strength

and reach grows each day.

The NEW REPUBLIC Senate turns

a blind eye to them, not wanting

to believe their return. From their

uncertainty, a new RESISTANCE is

born, headed by GENERAL LEIA

ORGANA.

The time has come for the First

Order to make a devastating

show of power. Snoke chooses

newly appointed GENERAL VINH

HUX and mysterious apprentice

KYLO REN to lead the charge on

Kothol.... 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so this is also a thing. Enjoy! https://youtu.be/u1MHsnfpXsw


	2. The Meeting

The Supreme Leader had been insistent that the galaxy would fall into place under his rule. As his acting general, Vinh Hux will help that come to fruition. He’s young for the rank, almost too young if one should ask the other generals throughout the First Order’s fleet, but it matters very little, it seems, to Supreme Leader Snoke himself. Hux had tried to remain humble during his transition from a mere lieutenant to _the_ general of the entire First Order, but it felt rather good to be smug about this promotion. Smug, but also skeptical. 

As a lieutenant, his greatest gift was the ease of adopting a failing battle strategy, reworking it, and managing to bring back the squadrons of Stormtroopers who would have otherwise been a few more casualties of war. This gift earned him, more often than not, a simple nod of recognition from General Pryde, or his own father when Brendol Hux found himself in need to visit the _Steadfast_. Then the Supreme Leader had summoned him to the holochamber. His nerves alight, buzzing like the exposed wiring of an astromech, he went… And came out a general. The jump in rank made no sense to him, or Pryde - or Father, for that matter, who voiced his opinion on the matter that night in the wardroom of all places. 

“You’re twenty-nine years old, a _child_ in comparison to the rest of us that hold such a title.” Brendol Hux ignored the looks that the other officers gave them, ignored the nutrishake his envoy had brought him at the beginning of dinner. “You should not hold the same rank as your father.” 

He spoke as if Hux had forced the Supreme Leader’s hand, but in truth, Hux is just as unsure about it all. This rank comes with its fair share of drawbacks, and Father and his friends’ reactions to the quick ascension is the least of his problems. 

Problem number one manifested itself in the mysterious identity of the Supreme Leader’s apprentice. Snoke had said he needed someone capable of navigating around the apprentice’s moods, someone capable of keeping up with him in battle if he must. It had been a week since that meeting, a week full of meetings, and the only thing he’s had to navigate his new ship. There’s yet to be any mention, or even brief sighting, of this man at all. And he is the main reason for this jump in rank, as far as Hux is concerned. Why shouldn’t he know who he is, see him, meet him at least once before they’re thrust into a battle?

The second problem is General Vevena Voque, a zabrak so pale that if she were to stand under the lights of the bridge she would be utterly translucent. Snoke had brought her from _The Fury_ to Hux’s _Finalizer_ to mold him into a model general and she did just that. She obeyed their Supreme Leader, but of course, Voque let him know every chance she could that there had to have been some mistake. Her favorite talking point was his lack of experience. “Almost all of the generals in the First Order have experience as far back as the Empire,” she told him as if he wasn’t already aware of the fact. General Enric Pryde of _The Steadfast_ , who Hux had served under since he’d left the Academy, is a veteran of the Empire, like Hux’s father and Voque are. And General Aveyard, and General Hahn, and General McElroy, and-- 

“General Hux, sir?”

Hux blinks a few times only to find his envoy (still a strange concept to him) regarding him with his gentle green eyes. As children, Vinh always likened their color to the green moss that covered the lakes in the Vale, where they would spend a month each year during the Junior Academy for wilderness training. Those kind eyes are set into an equally kind, clean-shaven face that boasted a square jaw and lips that always looked ready to break into a smile. 

“Lieutenant Erditch.” Apart from them, the bridge is utterly silent, each person busy at work on their terminals, awaiting orders to do otherwise. 

“You’re being summoned, sir, to the holochamber.” 

“By who?” Hux’s brow arches, looking from the face of his friend down to the datapad Erditch carries. 

There’s a hint of a smile in Erditch’s expression, but that smile is smart enough not to reach his lips. Hux is thankful for it, for he would break into one too despite his very best efforts. That look fades, though, as Erditch looks down at his datapad. 

“The Supreme Leader, sir. Holoplatform One, in ten minutes.” Erditch blinks rapidly, then adds, “Sir.” 

Hux’s nerves ignite again. He hasn’t done anything wrong. He has followed Voque’s direction to the letter, the protocol books, _everything_ Snoke had asked of him in the week he’d held the rank. It could be new orders, too. New orders, or… 

_What if I finally meet this apprentice?_

With a stifled sigh and a stiff nod, Hux thanks Erditch for alerting him, and then he’s off down the familiar corridors. Curiosity has its claws sunk deep into him as he takes them one by one, with thoughts of the enigmatic apprentice bouncing around his skull like a swarm of honey bees in their hive. The Supreme Leader is gifted with the power of the Force, a power Hux has only read or heard about secondhand. Growing up, Father filled his head with stories of the legendary Darth Vader, his lightsaber (that he personally finds impractical), but most importantly that raw power of his. He could choke men without touching them, lift them from the ground, crush his enemies with the flick of his hand. Of course, Hux doesn’t know just how much of that is true; these were all tales told at bedtime, as Vader became the Monster Under the Bed as to keep him out of his father’s room at night. 

And monsters are, by definition, imaginary.

Hux reaches the Holodeck. More accurately, it’s a large corridor with eight rounded doors, numbered accordingly and spread out to accommodate the holoplatforms each room contained. Hux never understood the need for so many of them and figured it to be a frivolous backup strategy, should any of the other seven dare need maintenance at the exact same time. He rolls his stiff shoulders, breathes out a short exhale, and enters Holoplatform One once the door has spiraled open. 

This holochamber is exactly how it sounds - a room only a little bigger than Hux’s private chambers. It’s pitch-black inside with only a few overhead lamps that act only to keep someone from fully losing their way in the dark, but do nothing to illuminate the walls. If those were to be believed, nothing existed past where their cones of light created a straight line down the center of the room. Unlike his past visits, though, the end of the path is occupied by two figures. The figure on Hux’s left is tall, muscled, and donning robes so dark he almost blends into the shadows. The one on his right is General Voque, who regards him only with some mix of contempt and disgust. 

There’s something hanging off the other figure’s belt, and as he gets closer, his stomach tightens into a knot. He’s never seen one like it before, but it has to be… 

A lightsaber. With a crossguard! Or that’s what he assumes those two side-ports are for. Nonetheless, a _lightsaber_ in his proximity sets his pulse into rapid-fire, thudding so loudly that it hurts his ears. But it’s with ease that he slips between these two figures and stares ahead, his posture perfect as to not give away the fear he’s harboring. 

“So nice of you to finally join us, General,” Voque utters, her voice a fire, warm and fierce as it boils his blood. Hux knows better than to show the rage she always managed to coax out of him. 

“My apologies, General,” he replies coolly, water to the fire. “I had duties to attend to. My ship cannot run itself, you know.” 

“ _T_ _he Fury_ is capable of running without my presence.” 

Hux looks at Voque through his peripheral vision, only to find her red eyes staring back. “Is that meant to inspire jealousy, Voque? If anything, that only demonstrates your uselessness to your own ship.”

Voque’s eyes widen, brows furrowed, ready to reprimand him, but then the large form of Supreme Leader Snoke appears. The blue light fills the room, banishing all shadow. 

The figure on his left stiffens. 

“General Hux,” the Supreme Leader growls fondly. The hairs on the back of Hux’s neck stand at attention to hear his name, and anxiety is a heavy ball resting in his stomach. “The new uniform suits you.” 

“Thank you, Supreme Leader,” he hears himself say instantly. If he believed Snoke could smile, he does so at this moment, wrinkled lips pulling back into a smirk. 

That smirk disappears as the hologram’s gaze falls on Voque. “General Voque,” he says, “I see you have yet to return to _The Fury_.” 

“There is much I would discuss with you if you would allow it, Supreme Leader.” Voque’s voice keeps its warmth and the ferocity has lessened significantly. 

Snoke doesn’t look pleased with it, or her for that matter. “I would find it far more useful of you to return to your vessel as soon as you are able. 

“As for you, General Hux…” Those horrible eyes fix on him. Hux keeps his face blank, back straight, gaze forward as he had been taught, but the nest of anxious tension inside his gut doesn’t answer to the training. “The time for the galaxy to know the true power of the First Order has come.” Snoke leans back in his throne, the hologram rippling to adjust for the movement. “The New Republic birthed from the ashes of the Empire’s failures—” Hux’s gaze flicks briefly to Voque at that. “—and the Resistance it has made its bed with underestimate the unadulterated strength which we possess. 

“That is why you, my general, will lead an invasion on the planet Kothol.” 

Kothol is undeclared, officially speaking, as it had been during the Empire’s time. Outer Rim. There’s more, but Hux’s mental recitation of the planet’s data is interrupted. 

“My apprentice,” Snoke motions with one hand towards the hooded man, “will do the groundwork. He will clear a path through the main city, and once he has, you shall join him for an interrogation of sorts.” _Of sorts_ often meant torture and execution. Not that it mattered to Hux. They chose their deaths the moment they branded themselves with the insignia of rebellion. “Until then, you will monitor from the safety of _The Finalizer_.” 

Voque scoffs aloud, and Snoke’s expression changes. Pale brows furrowed, horrible face scrunched, blue eyes full of a hate Hux didn’t know the Supreme Leader could possess. 

“Do you have something to say, General Voque?” 

Voque pales. Stammering, she begins, “I-it… is only that I believe--” 

But her words are choked off - literally. Her gloved hands reach up clawing at the invisible ones that must have taken hold to silence her so quickly. Just one thing Father hadn’t been lying about, Vinh silently supposes, the knot in his stomach tightening. 

“Set a course for Kothol. Report to me once you have completed your mission.”

Their world is plunged into darkness as Snoke deactivates the holoprojector, snuffing the blue light. Beside him, Voque tries to mask her gulping for air once the vice-like grip has relinquished her throat. 

Kothol is just a few hours away with a jump to hyperspace, by Hux’s reckoning. He ought to get up to the bridge now to give the order. As he turns to head down the poorly-lit pathway, Snoke’s apprentice speaks. 

“The Supreme Leader tells me you’re knowledgeable, General Hux.” The voice that comes from him is robotic, emotionless. No worse than Snoke’s growl, but it’s no better. “Strategy is your forte.” 

Hux turns back towards the man and freezes at the sight of the mask that obscures his features. Why does it surprise him so much? That voice is unnatural, clearly made by some sort of modulator, so it would only make sense for it to come from a mask. The appearance is simple, black with silver bands over where - Hux assumes - his eyes should be. 

Hux exhales, “It is.”

“What do you know about Kothol? Planets are an interest of yours.” 

Hux narrows his eyes. “They are.”

The apprentice regards him with just a tip of the head. Then, finally, he says, “Walk with me.” The man walks right past him and, stiffly, Hux follows. He tells him about Kothol, the lack of decision on what side of the war they wanted to be on, the climate (hot, a desert planet, heat storms aplenty), the newly-elected ‘government official’, the capital city of Verana. 

“What about their defenses?”

Hux stops just outside the holochamber. “They haven’t much beyond ships that belong in a scrapyard. Verana was briefly the home to a Rebel Outpost.” Kothol’s only forms of entertainment include speeder races, drinking while watching those speeder races, and doctoring up those speeders for the next race. “It’s hardly a civilized planet. Actually, if not for its so-called government, it would be just another backwater planet sitting on the edge of the Galaxy.”

The apprentice seems to consider those words, but then he’s just… gone, taking off down the hall, black robes billowing behind him with each hard, determined step that echoes through the Holodeck. 

Not a man of many words, and that is fine by Hux. Hux can work with that. Body language was one of the first languages he had been forced to learn, after all. 

Lieutenant Erditch comes down the corridor and stops just before Hux. “General, sir.” Erditch straightens up, salutes, and lowers his arm as he waits oh-so patiently to be addressed. 

“Send word to the bridge,” Hux says sternly, but not without an ounce of warmth for his childhood friend. Once, it had been Hux that was the taller of the two, but by the end of their time at the Atmoran Junior Academy, Erditch sprouted like a weed, and any time he must address his superior officer, he must crane his neck down to meet his eye. 

“Right away, sir,” comes Erditch’s easy reply, and he’s off as quickly as he came to complete his task. 

Hux stares after Erditch - _his envoy_ \- as he goes quickly down the corridor - _of his ship_ \- to deliver orders to the crew - _his crew!_ Hux’s first mission, his first real test as acting General of the First Order. He’ll be on _The Finalizer_ for the bulk of the ensuing battle, true enough, but it’s still a test of his constitution and will, his strategic abilities, and how well he gets along with — what’s his name? Snoke hadn’t said. The enigma in the mask hadn’t said, even. Hux frowns. 

“You truly think you’re suited to be a general, Vinh?” Voque’s voice comes from behind him. “Like your father, like me? With your own ship and crew? And that’s not even the beginning of your responsibilities. All of your orders come directly from the Supreme Leader himself! There is no room for error.”

 _I did not choose this,_ is what he wants to say, shout, scream. But he deserves it, far more than Father and all of his little friends do. He has worked hard, and it was damn time he got proper recognition for his accomplishments. Hux chooses not to say that, either. Instead, he turns to her, pleasantly saying, “I’m beginning to suspect you’ve overstayed your welcome on my ship.”

Voque’s thin lips purse and her lip quirks, a flash igniting her red eyes with rage. “Have I now?”

“You have. Your consultation has proven helpful, but only just.”

The muscle in her jaw works, her pulse point hammering visibly beneath her collar. “That tongue of yours will get you into trouble if you’re not careful, Vinh. I’m only doing what’s best for the First Order, and for you.” 

Hux offers only a polite, if not a bit smug, smile. “I’ll take your advice into consideration, General Voque.” 

As he turns away, he adds, “Send Father my regards.” 

There’s far too much to be done.

It took them three hours on the dot to arrive before Kothol. Its surface sets the floor of the bridge aflame with its red-orange sand. As Hux crosses the bridge, he feels as if he’s walking across flames. 

“Hangars One through Four are on standby, sir.”

Lieutenant Erditch stands at his elbow, both of his hands clasping his silver datapad as he waits for Hux to utter some order, any order. Hux always thought he would have made a better pilot, fighter, anything! But that’s not the path he chose for himself, and now more than ever is Hux thankful for it. There is no one in the galaxy he trusts as much as he trusts Terrin Erditch. 

“And the Supreme Leader’s apprentice?” he asks.

“Ren-comma-Kylo… TIE Silencer…” Erditch reads slowly from the datapad. “That’s the one name I don’t recognize, sir.” 

“Kylo Ren,” Hux murmurs, testing the name. 

“Standing by, sir.”

 _Well, Kylo Ren_ , he thinks, eyes fixed on the surface of Kothol. _Show me what you can do._

Without looking away, Hux gives the order. “Send them down.”


	3. Invasion

Ren watches the organized chaos swirl around him through his mask. Mechanics hurrying to make final preparations, officers ticking off boxes, pilots jumping into TIE fighters. There’s an atmosphere of apprehension and adrenaline in the air. He knows it well. It’s always followed by destruction.

He climbs into his TIE Silencer. Safeties off, engine engaged, blasters primed. He’s always been a good pilot—from when his father was showing him how the simulation pods worked, to when he was racing a small transport ship borrowed from Uncle Lando all around canyons. Those things, those  _ real skills, _ were things he hadn’t left behind. But even then they hadn’t let him develop them. He wasn’t allowed in a ship with real blaster cannons. Too dangerous, they said. They never believed he could handle it.

Look at him now. The best pilot in the First Order. And he’ll keep proving them wrong.

The small light next to the triggers starts flashing green, accompanied by the voice of a First Order officer echoing all across the hangar. Launch. He pushes the handles forward and the ship speeds away, zooming from the hangar out over Kothol. Two colours fill his viewport, bright blue above and rustic red below. He can just make out the escort of TIE fighters either side of his peripherals. 

A glance at his radar tells him they’re approaching Verana fast. They must know they’re coming—the Star Destroyers hanging in orbit aren’t exactly subtle— but no enemy fighters have been scrambled yet. If their defences are this much of a shambles, Ren thinks, he might as well have just walked in. 

There are, however, anti-air guns coming up on his readings. Looking up, he can see them positioned on towers covering the Resistance headquarters. Slowly, they turn their barrels in the formation’s direction and fire, lobbing red bolts towards the ships.

Ren’s the first to react, letting his instincts in the Force drive him. He twists his wrists and his ship darts quickly to the side, cutting through the air. The lasers whip narrowly past the side of the wing, straight into a TIE fighter behind him, leaving behind just an explosion of metal. Then the rest of the First Order squadron breaks off.  _ Slow, _ he thinks.

He’s familiar with the official plan, the official motives behind this invasion. But he is also keenly aware of just how the galaxy is going to view this attack. And why Kylo Ren is on the front lines. He’s here to make an impression—his first major battle. To strike fear into the hearts of the people, just as the Galactic Empire did before. Just as Darth Vader did before.

It must be fate. He’d read about how Vader was an excellent pilot, too.

Ren banks his TIE sharply, a light on the dashboard alerting him that the enemy have launched their fighters.  _ Finally. _ He looks up to see them pouring out of the hangar, about a dozen or so. They’re rusted in places, having not seen action since, Ren theorizes, the last war. They break off, two of them falling behind Ren in close pursuit. They may not look much, but their speed makes up for it. 

Ren angles his ship, narrowly missing a few bolts of fire from his chasers. Their guns are miscalibrated, old. And he’s willing to bet the pilots haven’t seen any real action in far too long. Flicking the hyper-exhaust open, he pushes his TIE down, almost diving directly into the roofs of the shelters below, dropping below their line of fire. Then he pulls back up, resurfacing just behind them and taking out both ships with a quick double squeeze of the triggers. They come apart in an explosion of orange and green.

Just to his side, he notices one of the supporting TIEs shooting down a Resistance fighter. They’re no match for the might of the First Order Air Force. The anti-air guns are a different story, he realizes. The closest one swivels its cannons to take aim at that TIE fighter, firing and obliterating it.

Ren rounds on it, locking it in his sights and firing two missiles in its direction. It tries to fire them out the sky, but its shots are wide, zipping past into the sky. Ren’s missiles collide with their target. The resulting explosion is tall, sending Ren’s ship shaking with the turbulence, and the tower subsequently collapses in a plume of smoke.

He notices signs of movement below him, coming from the base. Their ground troops are mobilising, though it’ll do them little good. They’ve left themselves completely uncovered as they rush to set up their defences.  _ Time to teach them a lesson. _

Ren pushes the grips forward, sending his TIE diving towards the ground. The sand just gets bigger and bigger, filling his entire view window slowly. He knows it’s risky—one wrong move and he’s little more than paste. But he actually finds himself smirking despite it. The danger’s intoxicating. It focuses him, makes him stronger. Just like it did Vader.

He sharply pulls up at the last split second, the sand beneath his ship billowing and swirling as he speeds past. He turns a little, just getting a squad in his sights, and he pulls the trigger. His green lasers collide with them, sending bodies flying in every direction. But one of them managed to fire a rocket, narrowly zipping past Ren’s wing and colliding with another anti-air tower. It shatters into pieces, rocks flying everywhere, one of them careening back around and striking Ren’s wing. His ship wobbles but he manages to get it back under control, warning lights flooding the cockpit red around him. 

Then there’s an incoming transmission. “Ren,” comes General Hux’s voice. 

Ren grunts in frustration as he replies, trying to stabilise his craft so that the horizon in front of him remains level. “Yes?”

“One more hit and you’ll be blown out of the sky,” Hux says. “Fall back. We’re beginning the ground assault now.”

“There are still ships in the sky,” Ren replies through gritted teeth, muffled further by the mask. “Falling back now would be—”

“The rest of the fleet can handle it,” Hux says. Is that just a hint of irritation in his voice? “Fall back. You’ll lead the invasion.”

The transmission shuts off before Ren has a chance to argue. He takes a look at the situation, at the mass of TIE fighters zipping around above the Resistance base, chasing down the few fighters left. Then he looks back at those warning lights. With an annoyed hiss, he banks his ship and heads back to _the_ _Finalizer_.

* * *

He lands in the hangar with a clunk, First Order technicians hurrying over as fast as protocol will allow. He jumps out of the cockpit and heads directly for the troop carrier in front of him.

He inspects the troops—stormtroopers, all lined up in perfect formation. Their armor was designed to invoke nightmares of the Galactic Empire, and each of them have been hand-picked for this mission. The First Order’s inaugural show of strength. They must not disappoint.

Ren is there to ensure they don’t. He takes his position at the front of the army and watches the landing ramp close behind him. They take off and speed towards the Resistance base.

Even from here, he can feel the heat of the battle raging on. It only gets hotter as he approaches, and he longs for some action.

The landing craft touches down with a hiss, burnt sand swirling beneath the engines. There are already barrages of laser fire directed toward the ramp, but nothing the deflector shields can’t handle.

Ren takes hold of his lightsaber, turning it over in his hands. The hilt is heavy in his hands, the blackened metal scuffed in places where he converted it into a weapon reminiscent of the Sith of old. The exhaust ports either side are just barely starting to show signs of discoloration.

Now is the time the galaxy will see his true power. The true power of a Knight of Ren, of one who has the full power of the dark side at his disposal.

He steps out onto the ramp, a lone, dark figure amidst the sea of yellow sand. To either side of him are rolling dunes of gold as far as he can see, and ahead just dull, dreary buildings that seem to blend in with the rest of the planet. The silver highlights on his mask just reflect the glint of the sun above.

Then he ignites his lightsaber with a distinctive snap-hiss. The blades themselves sound angry, the raging red energy as unstable as the one who wields it. 

The Resistance troopers have found cover nestled between the stained brick, in alleyways, on rooftops. But the barrage of laser fire comes to a pause when they see him.  _ Is that a—? Could it be a—? _

_ A lightsaber? _

Then the lasers start flying again, but Ren’s faster. He draws his lightsaber around him in a defensive arc, sending the blaster bolts this way and that. He advances, seemingly an impenetrable shield, until suddenly he pivots, swinging his lightsaber down and sending one of the blaster bolts directly back into the person who shot it, sending her explosively back and to the ground.

The soldier on the opposite side of the street ducks into an alley, but Ren yanks him from his cover with a ferocious pull, directly into his howling blade. He cries out and is suddenly silenced, and Ren just tosses him to the side, pivoting to deflect another blast. Then he reaches forward and crushes the base of a sand-dusted moisture vaporator, sparks and pieces of metal flying as it topples over. The trooper who was using it as cover narrowly ducks out of the way the only way she can—into the exposed street, directly into Ren’s path. He pulls the blaster out of her hands and sends it scattering across the sand. He marches towards her as she scrambles to pull herself up, but he just places a single boot on her back, forcing her back down to the ground. Without so much as a look, he impales her on his lightsaber. There’s an aggressive shrill as it cuts through her, which then just fades into a low ambient growling.

He glances up at the gritty road ahead of him. He knows the Resistance headquarters lay at its end. Ren thinks back to his training, to what both Skywalker and Snoke taught him.  _ Overconfidence is a weakness. _ Here Skywalker said something like  _ the priority is to clear your mind, be at peace, _ though that was all a lie. Snoke taught him to hold onto his anger. To hone it, and use that as his greatest weapon. No obstacle is too great, but to think it would ever be easy—that is the mistake.

Finally, the remaining First Order troop transports land behind him, stormtroopers filing out and taking formation as they follow him. TIE fighters zip by overhead, making passes at the Resistance’s defences. Stormtroopers weave between cover, exchanging shots with the Resistance soldiers. Now with support behind him, Kylo Ren leads the charge.

He’s a silhouette against the glowing sand, the three red blades cutting the air around him and deflecting every shot aimed at him away into the sky. Through his visor, his gaze locks on to two troopers behind a makeshift wooden barricade, hurriedly preparing a weapon of some sorts.

It’s a rocket launcher.

Clearly these idiots were so terrified by the power of the dark side and so misguided on the nature of the Force that they think this could possibly save them. Ren’s eager to dissuade them of this notion. 

One of them finishes priming it and the other hoists it over their shoulder, taking aim at Ren. He stops in his tracks, lowering his lightsaber,  _ staring _ at them from behind his mask. Daring them. He can feel their trepidation in the Force. It’s their first major battle. Hands trembling. Hesitating.

_ Enough of that, _ Ren thinks. To spark a reaction, he just starts marching slowly in their direction again. The Resistance soldier with the rocket launcher over his shoulder reaches for the trigger, squeezes lightly. And then fires.

For Ren, everything slows down as he focuses. There’s an explosion, the barrel lighting up as the rocket’s ignited and fired directly at his feet. It speeds towards him, a trail of fire in its wake.

And then Ren just raises his hand, and gives the rocket a firm push.

It flips over as it spirals back towards the soldiers who’d fired it. It happens so fast they have no time to react. The rocket collides with the barricade, engulfing it, the soldiers, and most of the nearby house in an explosion of flames.

Ren’s unfazed, lowering his hand as he continues on. Behind him, one or two stormtroopers are watching in awe as they follow behind.

The Resistance soldiers just in front of them start to fall back now, so blind in their desperation that they run out onto the street. Ren just reaches out, twists his wrist, and snaps their necks. They jerk, stop in their tracks, and fall to the sand like rag dolls.

There’s nothing between the might of the First Order and the Resistance’s outpost now. Ren glances up at the huge doors leading inside the base, deactivating his lightsaber. He reaches a gloved hand forward and presses it to the metal. Old, dusty, yet surprisingly sturdy. He can sense every aspect of the door’s construction. It’d take heavy weaponry to crack it open despite its age.

He unclips his comlink from his belt, contacting  _ the Finalizer _ hanging above them. “General Hux,” he says, voice warped through the mask. 

There’s a brief pause before the comlink crackles into life. “Here,” Hux says. “What’s the situation?”

“I’ve cleared out the ground forces and the outer defences. The door is all that’s left. Destroy it,” he says.

He flicks the comlink off before Hux can reply. He knows that, technically, he does not command General Hux. The Supreme Leader had made that much clear. But Ren is single-minded in his goal—destroy the Resistance. 

The stormtroopers take their positions a safe distance away, their sights all trained on the door. Ren’s the only one not hiding behind cover, gaze focused on the Star Destroyer that hangs in the sky behind him. The sun’s reflection is blinding on the silver of his mask. Then there’s the first hint of red as the cannons charge up. He allows himself a satisfied smirk hidden beneath the mask. He’s pleased that General Hux did as he ordered.

He watches the trail burn across the sky. It enters the atmosphere with a piercing rumble, barrelling towards the headquarters at incredible speed. Ren’s gaze follows it down, watching it intently. It collides with the base, and there’s the briefest of moments where everything lights up and all is quiet. Followed immediately by an explosion of yellow and red, debris flying, flames cascading, sand billowing, and Kylo’s cloak fluttering violently in the aftershock.

He’s unfazed, marching towards the explosion. There’s still rubble in front of him, huge shards of metal. Without even moving his arms, they’re violently pushed to either side of the path, clearing a way for him. Hesitantly, the troopers follow behind him, but Ren hasn’t even drawn his lightsaber. There’s no movement stirring behind the doors of the base, not yet, anyway. He steps between the flames and into the base.

He can sense their overwhelming  _ fear,  _ the fear of the techies, the officers, the cowards still hiding out in there _. _ With Ren at the front lines, the First Order had suffered only one or two losses, and the pitiful Resistance force here had thrown everything they’d had at him. If this wasn’t a show of power, a show of total domination, what more destruction could they ask for? 

Now the galaxy will know his name, he thinks. His new name. Kylo Ren. Master of the Knights of Ren. 

And no one will fear him more than the Resistance. Particularly his parents. General Leia Organa and Han Solo. He finds himself slowing to a stop as his thoughts turn towards them, despite the red-hot flames around him, despite the red-hot rage pumping through him. What would they think if they could see him now? If they were here? Would they even  _ recognize _ him? With that black cloak, the mask to hide his features, his red, unstable lightsaber. All of it designed to invoke fear and the image of his grandfather, Darth Vader.

Maybe… Maybe they’d recognize him through that. But the rest of the galaxy would see him as they saw Vader. A terrifying, unstoppable  _ monster. _

He pushes those thoughts from his head as he marches through the fire. There’s nowhere to hide now. There are only a few stragglers left. One of them, an officer previously coordinating the defences, draws his pistol and fires at Ren. He just lifts his hand and stops the trajectory of the bolt midair, sending it back into his chest in a split second. 

Another, at the opposite end of the room, makes a run for it, but Ren reaches forward and trips him. He’s sent flying to the floor, his face colliding with a smack, groaning as he’s dragged closer to Ren by that invisible force. Once he’s at his feet, he doesn’t waste any more unnecessary time, just snapping his neck with a simple twist of his wrist.

Ahead is the control room, sealed off. No escape. All the highest ranking officers in the base are hiding out in there, probably desperately sending distress signals that were being intercepted by the First Order. Pathetic cowards. They deserve everything they get.

Ren reaches for his comlink again as the stormtroopers file in, combing the room and checking every hiding place. “General Hux,” he says.

“Here, Ren,” comes Hux’s reply.

_Had he been watching?_ Ren wonders. Had he seen his power himself? He hopes so. He’s sure General Hux is a formidable tactician in his own right, but no army could compare to the power of the dark side.

“The base has been cleared out,” he says. “Their officers are trapped. Ready for extraction and interrogation.”

There’s a brief moment of deliberation on the other end, and then Hux’s reply comes. “Hold. We’re on our way down. We will extract and interrogate personally.”

_ And inspect my handiwork, _ Ren thinks. He bristles a little at the idea of having to wait. He could just cut the door open himself and end them. Surely the unimportant officers holed up on this backwater planet couldn’t hold any valuable information.

But he remembers the Supreme Leader’s instructions. “As you wish,” he says, then shuts the comlink off.


End file.
